This Simple Tracking Method Helped Expose My Anxiety as a Liar

At the beginning of the year, I realized I had to renew my German passport as it was expiring in July. In Europe, it’s mandatory to have a valid ID card or passport, so it’s always important to renew it in time. Since I live in Switzerland, the process is a bit more difficult for me as I have to go to the German Embassy to do it. I need to do extra paperwork, and getting an appointment at the embassy is a bit like what I imagine going to the DMV must be like.

I’m a very meticulous person and anything that revolves around filling out paperwork or any kind of official business gives me anxiety. I always feel as if I’m surely doing something wrong, accidentally breaking a rule or messing up the paperwork. And going to the embassy is a stressful thing in itself. You have to walk past numerous stages of security guards like at the airport. This isn’t common in Switzerland so I’m really not used to it and it makes me uncomfortable. They also seem to change the layout of the embassy and where you have to go every time I’m there. So I walk around being confused and, of course, get yelled at by some security guard for walking the wrong way.

Suffice it to say, I was stressed out by having to go there.

When I contacted them in the beginning of the year, the earliest appointment I could book was at the end of May. This was no surprise to me, but I knew it would make my anxiety only worse. I absolutely hate having something stressful looming over my head. I can’t stop thinking about it. I imagine every possible and impossible scenario of what could go wrong.

And then we went into lockdown.

Of course, my appointment was canceled without any further information. I was in limbo for about two months until they just sent me a new appointment with the notion of “take it or leave it.” I also wasn’t allowed to bring a support person with me, which I find problematic for a lot of reasons.

So again, I had to wait. And I started spiraling even more. I was going to have to take public transport during an active pandemic and there would be even more rules to follow. So I could make even more mistakes and get yelled at. I worked myself up so much that I couldn’t sleep or eat. I had migraine attacks and my irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) flared. I was a mess.

And then the day came and I went to the embassy … and I was done in about 10 minutes. All my paperwork was perfect and nobody yelled at me. Everyone was nice and it was, in fact, a pleasant experience.

I went home and felt silly.

I remember sitting on my bed, completely exhausted, asking myself why. Why had I worried so much? Why had I let myself be anxious for almost six months for an appointment that lasted 10 minutes and was no problem at all? And I got angry at myself for letting it happen, but I was mostly angry at my anxiety for lying to me. For telling me that everything was going to go wrong. For whispering absurd catastrophes into my ear and making me question my sanity.

And then, I had this one thought directed at my anxiety: “I wonder what else you’re wrong about.”

I got a piece of paper and made two columns. One labeled “times my anxiety was right” and one labeled “times my anxiety was wrong.”

I have been keeping track of my anxious thoughts for about two months, now. And the “wrong” column has grown very long while the “right” column only has three entries.

This method of keeping track has visualized the extent of my anxious thoughts. How much I bet against me. How little I trust my abilities to do things. How much I worry about things that will never happen. How much I catastrophize. And how unnecessary it all is. I worry about things that aren’t going to be a problem. I waste valuable energy and time on useless thoughts. It keeps me from living life, meeting people, getting things done, enjoying myself. I used to think that worrying was going to prepare me for every possible scenario and therefore be helpful. But it’s not. My anxiety leads to procrastination. I was afraid of trying new things, leaving my comfort zone. I was completely stuck. My anxiety locked me in a cage.

But guess what, anxiety: I’ve exposed you as a liar and I’m no longer listening.